The Girl in the Steel Corset - By Kady Cross Page 0,84

her tongue.

“This is delicious,” she said, when she finally recovered enough to speak.

Jack was watching her in a curious manner. “You could have ’em every morning if you want.”

Finley stilled, another piece of croissant poised halfway to her mouth. “Pardon?”

He smiled at her, as though he found her surprise amusing. “You can stay here—with me—as long as you want.” It couldn’t have been coincidence that all traces of Cockney disappeared at that moment.

She wasn’t certain what to say. This generosity from him wasn’t totally unexpected, but she knew better than to take it as innocent. If she stayed there, eventually Jack would want something from her in return, and the idea of what he might want from her was as scary as it was strangely exciting.

“Thank you,” she said at last—it seemed much safer than yes or no, especially since part of her was very tempted to say yes.

Jack shrugged his lean shoulders. “I know the minute His Grace comes for you, you’ll ’ead back to Mayfair wiv him, but if ever you need somethin’…” He let the offer drift off.

Silence filled the room as they stared at one another. Finley’s mouth was suddenly very dry. Good lord, what was going on?

“Last night you asked me what I knew about that Machinist bloke,” he said, breaking the silence and the strange growing tension. He popped the last of a croissant in his mouth and brushed the crumbs from his long hands. “I ’aven’t had dealings wiv him, but I know some who ’ave. Keeps to hisself, deals mostly in metal. My associate’s ’eard of lots of thefts and anarchy believed to be The Machinist’s work, but there’s no proof. He knows how to keep his head down.” There was a note of respect in his voice, reminding Finley that as attractive as Jack Dandy might be he was not a “good” man.

“I appreciate your help,” she said sincerely. “It seems The Machinist is something of a phantom.”

Jack inclined his head. “That’s easy though, innit? When you get a bit o’ metal to do all your dirty work.”

Yes, she supposed it was. “Who do you get to do yours?” she asked before she could censure herself.

He grinned at her, flashing those straight white teeth that reminded her of a wolf. “A man’s got to ’ave secrets, Treasure.”

Like whether or not he killed Lord Felix—for her. The idea made her head swim. On one hand it was terribly romantic to think someone might kill for her. On the other, it was terrifying to think Jack could take a life over something so petty as a slight against her. Yes, Lord Felix had intended to do her great harm at the time, but she’d escaped relatively unscathed. He deserved to be stopped, but killed? Still, she couldn’t bring herself to get the least bit upset about it. She was more tormented with the thought of finding a murderer attractive than concerned with who he might have done in.

She didn’t want Jack to be a killer. There, she’d thought it, admitted it to herself. She didn’t want it because she liked him, and because she didn’t want to be the kind of person who could have feelings for a murderer.

A knock at the front door pulled her from her thoughts. Her head turned to gaze out into the foyer. Jack only smiled wryly into his cup. “Wonder who that could be?” he mused drily. “Do be a love and get that for me, will you?”

It was odd that he asked her to answer the knock, but since he’d been so good as to take her in when she needed it, she didn’t think to refuse. Setting her cup on the table, she rose from the sofa and slowly walked out of the room, her gaze fixed on the front door.

She depressed the latch with her thumb, and swung the heavy wood inward, revealing a most unexpected surprise.

Griffin stood on the step.

Jack had predicted he would come, but she hadn’t believed it, and she certainly hadn’t suspected it would be this soon. And she hadn’t thought for a moment that she would be so bloody happy to see him. How had he known where to find her? Had he thought the worst of her and suspected she’d run to Jack? Or did he simply know her well enough to know that she’d run to the one person who seemed to understand her as well as he did?

“Hello,” he said. His voice was rough and he

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